Light at the End of the Tunnel
by klexia
Summary: Agents want the codes. Humans want to live. Story. Short. Pointless.


*** Standard Disclaimer: Matrix wasn't invented by me, it wasn't developed by me, it doesn't belong to me, and I didn't maintain it. So no bug reports.  
  
Non-standard Disclaimer: If this looks like a rip-off from Shadow Peach's Despair, that's probably because it partially is. Posted with her permission.  
  
(speaking of which, if you haven't yet read it, I recommend it. Story ID=1526628)  
  
***  
  
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Light at the End of the Tunnel  
***  
  
Glade's arms clutched the cold metal chain that connected the bands around her wrists. At this point she was even glad that the handcuffs were there - it was something to hold on to. And when you feel you're going crazy, you need something like that, something solid, strong and cold. It absolutely has to be cold. The colder it is the better, because only cold can help the pain-numbed mind stay focused.  
  
Her part wasn't that big anymore - just wait. And do nothing. Though it was becoming increasingly difficult.  
  
.  
  
Another blow landed on her cheek. Her head swung wildly to the left, further than it could usually go. The jerk sent a chain reaction of pain through her strained neck, past the wounded shoulder and down her broken right arm. The chains clinked and gripped her skin, not letting the arm swing out following the tug the rest of the body exerted. Glade lost her grip on the chain, and moved her fingers to reinstate it.  
  
It was interesting how hard it is to let go of hope as a whole, and how easy it became to give it away in pieces. When Yewy, her operator, warned her about agents in the vicinity, she hoped they weren't after her. And when it became obvious that they are, she hoped she would be able to get to the exit without as much as a fight. And even when an agent was clutching her hand and pointing a gun at her, she hoped she would be able to get out of this. That is, until the second agent showed up. Then she hoped she'd be able to talk her way out of the situation. After that, when she pretended she would do anything, including killing her kind, to save her own life, she still hoped she might get a chance to escape.  
  
And then the agent told her that he wanted to hear her repeat all she said while under the influence of truth serum. She knew the drug relaxes the mind and makes lying next to impossible, but even at that point she hoped she'd be able to keep up the act. "It's the Matrix," she had told herself. "And there is no drug."  
  
And right now she just hoped she would remain true to herself. So where along the line did she lose hope of coming out alive?  
  
Probably when she realized that the drug did its job and made her slip up. It had been hard to keep up the appearance of cooperation and to eagerly respond to questions hiding the truth at the same time, tying together truth and lies to end up with something believable, yet without giving away anything. Especially when the brain was progressively slower and slower at coming up with things spontaneously. So when they started talking about technicalities of exits (during which she almost relaxed, because she knew practically nothing about it) she slipped up and implied that she knew the codes. And the contradiction with her earlier statement undid all her hard work.  
  
She did her best; she failed. And the last lesson she learned turned out to be the first lesson she was taught when she was unplugged - the only way you can win against an agent is if they don't reach you.  
  
.  
  
At least now everything was simple. She just had to sit, and wait - and do nothing.  
  
"We can be merciful too," said the agent. Glade couldn't see him because she decided to keep her eyes closed long ago, but she still couldn't get rid of the image of him looming over her. "Tell us the codes," her captor continued, "and we'll give you what you desire the most right now."  
  
"A sprinkled doughnut," Glade whispered through swallen lips. Of course, this was the last thing she thought about at the moment, and it was painful to talk, but she couldn't pass the opportunity to feel at least some contentment. In a form of a prisoner's dignity she half-opened her eyes, but they couldn't focus. Probably it was because tears of pain, a black eye and her own blood distorted her vision. She let her eyelids fall back down.  
  
"A quick death," said the agent in a friendly tone, then landed another puch that sent her head whirling to the right.  
  
"Someone else can give me that," Glade thought. "Why aren't they acting?"  
  
She remembered her subordinates from the Tidon. No, they were much more than that. Her crew were all her friends, closer than family, closer than anyone. She never told them how much she really cared for them, always. She never told them, but they knew. So no regrets there. They knew, and she knew they knew. And she knew they cared for her also.  
  
Now they undoubtedly thought they're doing her a favour by deviating from protocols and letting her live for as long as they could. They were putting her through hell, because they cared about her. And now she'd just have to endure that, because she cared about them. That was the last token of respect they exchanged.  
  
.  
  
"Sino... Rona... Yewy..." Glade recalled the names of the Tidon's crew, thinking of last words she'd say to each of them, and imagining their reactions.  
  
She noticed that she was chanting out loud - the drug was still increasing its effect, disconnecting her higher brain functions and suppressing her self-control.  
  
She willed herself to stop, and as a consequence got a brand-new bruise on her jaw. Her head tilted back and stayed there, because Glade saw no reason to move at all.  
  
Except... with a moan of pain, she closed her slowly-moving fingers around the chain again. Strong. Solid. Cold.  
  
The rest of the world blurred away, and there was only the chain, some strange images, and the agent's voice that she heard with sickening clarity. "We both know how this is going to end," he said, "so why go through all the trouble?"  
  
"Yes, why go through all the trouble," Glade thought in reply. She didn't speak though. She just thought. "We both know my friends will pull me out before it's too late... I just wish they'd do it sooner."  
  
She only moved her tongue far enough to push the lost tooth out of her mouth. She wondered, if someone loses a tooth in the Matrix, does it fall out in the real world as well? Is a mind really strong enough to do that? She never cared to try it before.  
  
A drop of water landed on her lower lip. She felt a flask put to her mouth. Water... She hadn't realized how thirsty she was. Glade clenched her lips tighter, as much as the tired muscles could. It would only feel worse after - in fact, that was doubtlessly the whole purpose of it.  
  
The water mixed with her sweat and dripped down her chin. And without delay, another hit made her fingers lose their grip on the chain again. This time they slid off easier, because her blood lubricated the metal surface. She tried to get the chain back, but her fingers refused to move. "Move," she silently willed them. "Move!"  
  
Just like an eternity ago, back during training: "There is no spoon... There is no hand... There is no chain..." Yes, that's it. There are no agents!  
  
Glade's lips wavered for a bit, then their corners raised. There are no agents!  
  
The more she thought about it, the more implications she saw, the funnier it became. Her chest stated convulsing and a few giggles escaped her mouth, then her whole body started shaking with laughter.  
  
"There are no agents," she whispered out loud. "There are no agents," she repeated loudly in between laughter. "THERE ARE NO AGENTS!" she screamed, laughing hysterically. "THERE IS NO YOU!!!" She announced directly to her torturer.  
  
She opened her eyes wide. It was too bad she couldn't see anymore. It would've been funny to see his face. But it's ok. She can imagine.  
  
She laughed until she was out of breath, then coughed, spit out blood and laughed some more. Even when a couple more blows knocked the breath out of her, she continued laughing. It wasn't audible anymore though, and only her body shook unevenly.  
  
The chair she was tied to fell over to the side. Were she still able, she'd laugh even harder. As it was, even the scream of pain caused by landing on her broken arm sounded more like a gurgling noise.  
  
Then another punch sound was head. Then another. Glade hypothesized that her body had gone numb enough that she didn't feel anymore.  
  
Or could it be that the blows weren't directed at her? Glade heard an agent cry out, then glass crash. "Glade," Sino exclaimed. He then flew over the fence and hugged her. She hugged back... Something told her that this didn't make any sense, but - who listens to those kind of pessimists? "Party-pooper," she said, and the little black lizard crawled away into the corner.  
  
Glade shook her head to clear it, and found her cheek was flat against the floor. The pain in her right hand where the chair leaned on the broken bone was almost making her pass out, and it seemed she had obtained a few more wounds in her stomach.  
  
"Four, Alpha, Seven ..." she heard herself say. Stop! Stop! Stop!!! Tears burst out of her eyes from the effort, and a cough interrupted her words.  
  
Glade couldn't think straight anymore, and reality was mixed with fantasies and hallucinations. "Please. Don't make me wait any longer," she begged in the privacy of her own mind. "You must see that I've reached my limit!"  
  
And then she felt something. She had never felt anything like it before, but she knew what it was. Her prayers were answered. For a second more her mind, disconnected from the body, existed. She didn't feel pain anymore. The Matrix representation of her body went limp in the chair, with a smirk etched into the lips that were becoming colder by the moment. And her mind drifted off, somewhere, where it could finally be safe. 


End file.
